Overdose
by TotalFanGirl221B
Summary: Just a one shot. Sherlock's began to take drugs as John's gone and he can't cope. Crappy summary, I'm just terrible at summaries! If you don't review I will turn you into shoes. IMPORTANT NOTICE: LEAVE REVIEWS


Lestrade practically ran to Sherlock's flat. He'd been calling him and calling him, but received no answer whatsoever. He knew Sherlock would be in a dark place right now, with John and Mary moving away with their daughter. It had been a few weeks, and Lestrade had hardly heard a word from Sherlock.

He decided to ring John. "John? John?" he panted as he ran.

"Lestrade? What is it? What's wrong?"

"It's Sherlock. Have you heard from him?"

"Uh, no, not recently."

"No, me neither..." Lestrade sighed. John realised what Lestrade was implying.

"You think he's...?"

"I... I hope not."

"I'm on my way." John said quickly putting the phone down before Lestrade could object.

Finally Lestrade arrived at the flat. It felt like he'd been running for miles and miles. He stood outside for a moment, just staring at the building wondering what he was going to find inside. He was incredibly worried and frightened, not knowing how Sherlock had reacted to John's move. Sherlock had been acting strange before the move which was no surprise; he was so nervous. Everybody could see that he couldn't cope. He couldn't deal with his best friend leaving. Sherlock wasn't the type to just put up with a visit once in a while; he wanted John there by his side when he needed him. When there was a new case, they would be ready. When he needed something, John would be there. But now. Now he was gone.

He had to go in. Lestrade dreaded it as he walked closer and closer to the living room door which was ajar. What was he going to find? What was he going to do? All of these thoughts paraded around his head as he slowly lifted up his arm and placed his hand on the door. Pushing it gently open, Lestrade looked in. He saw Sherlock asleep on the armchair closest to the window. Well, he assumed he was asleep. That was until he'd made his way in and found the needle lying beside Sherlock. "Sherlock?!" Lestrade shouted as he rushed over and shook his friend. He cried to him to try and wake him up. "Sherlock, come on!" He pleaded. He'd never thought this would happen. He knew Sherlock had a history with drugs, but an overdose?

Eventually Sherlock opened his bloodshot eyes. His face pale and cold. Body frail and weak. He looked like death itself. He opened his eyes only a little, just enough to see Lestrade. He smiled slightly and coughed. "Sherlock?" Lestrade cried a little as he saw his friend wake; he closed his eyes for a moment. "What were you doing? How much have you taken?!" Lestrade demanded an answer. Sherlock's smiled faded as he blinked slowly.

"E... Enough." Sherlock replied, drifting away.

"What do you mean _enough?_" Lestrade panicked. "What have you done, Sherlock?" Sherlock didn't need to reply. He gave the detective one look and he'd reached the conclusion he'd thought he would. Devastated, he looked to his friend who didn't have long. He had been dreading this moment. This exact moment. "But _why_?" again, Sherlock didn't have to reply. Lestrade knew all of the answers; he just needed to hear it from Sherlock. He just didn't understand it right then.

Lestrade sat with his friends in his last moments. "Please... John is coming." Sherlock just smiled, but he knew it was over. He wasn't going to hold on. If John saw him this way, it would destroy them both, and make Sherlock regret his decision which he could no longer take back.

"I'm glad," Sherlock coughed and looked to his friend with an actual friendly smile, so full of emotion. "I'm glad you are with me now, Greg." that's what broke him. Lestrade cracked. As his friend gradually closed his eyes and his heart race decreased, Lestrade cried. The one time Sherlock remembered his name. The one moment he actually showed emotion, showed he cared. It was his last time. As his friend lay cold and lifeless, Lestrade grabbed his hand and continued to cry.

Soon, John did turn up. However, he was far too late. Lestrade was just leaving as they were taking Sherlock's body away. John ran fast, but not fast enough. He bumped into Lestrade and Lestrade stared at him for a minute. He looked at John with such sadness. John looked at him and just knew. He knew it was too late. Everything was over. "W... what happened?" he said, shaking his head as he couldn't believe he had missed Sherlock's death. Sherlock's real death. He should have been there, he thought. He should have been sat by his side comforting him.

"He, uh..." Lestrade choked a little on tears. "Overdosed." Lestrade sighed. Again, John shook his head. No. He can't have. Why would he? The man who divorced himself from emotions. Why would he decide to overdose over John? John closed his eyes and a tear rolled from his left down his cheek as he realised it was all over. "Was anyone... with him?" he coughed.

"Yeah. I was there."

"Is there anything you could have done?" John knew there wasn't, but he just needed to hear it.

"No," Lestrade shook his head, getting rid of tears. "If there was, I would have." John just nodded.

They both stood outside the flat, wondering what would have happened if they had arrived sooner. If they had just persuaded him to hang on a little longer. Would he be saved? Or would he have done it at a later date? Unfortunately they would never get the answer to their question. They were left to wonder.


End file.
